Sharing Smiles
by Wannabe-Danish-Cookie
Summary: Sometimes, when one exchanges smiles, they find out what's really there. /One-shot\\


**A/N: This is a one shot, in a different writing style.**

**Enjoy!**

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Latvia trembles violently, wide, violet eyes peering up at the imposing figure, so much like Russia, yet so _different_. For one, the man is blonde, so unlike Russia's pale, platinum locks that gleamed despite the dim candles that were placed around his huge mansion.

Another, is that while Russia's eyes are wide, child-like, a strange purple, this man's eyes are unseen, hidden behind a pair of gleaming glasses that showcase Latvia's pitiful reflection back at himself.

Russia is always smiling, forever smiling, his long arms outstretched for a hug, while this man, this man frowns. It seems his only facial expression is a frown, lips pulled taut, his arms drawn tight together, so opposite the familiar face of Russia.

And when this stranger speaks up, his voice is low, _too low_, rumbling like a distant thunderstorm, like nails on a chalkboard compared to Russia, Russia's sweet baritone that could be considered high-pitched, Russia's voice that was like a lullaby on the perfect day.

Latvia shivers like a leaf, backing against the wall when Sweden extends a calloused hand towards him.

He finds himself wishing for Russia.

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For the first time in a long time, Sealand feels scared, no, _terrified_. The room is lit, just barely, with flickering candles, and a tall, imposing man stands before him, so like his beloved father yet so different.

Sweden always carries with himself a calming aura, one that soothes and mends his insecurities. The aura he gets from this man is evil, cruel, as if he were going to snap Sealand in half. Sealand doesn't doubt it.

The man in front of him is giggling like a child, rubbing his gloved palms together like a child, nuzzling a bunny rabbit like a child. He's a child, yet his hulking figure defies that. Sweden always followed the rules. Sweden is responsible, respected, protective, Sweden is a wise seer compared to this child that considers Sealand a toy.

And when this stranger speaks up, his voice high and manic to Sealand's ears, Sealand thinks that his voice is high, _too high_, nearly breaking his eardrums compared to Sweden, Sweden's smooth, calming, deliciously low voice that was the best thing about him, his fatherly vibe.

Sealand trembles under Russia's gaze, shifting his stance to a fighting position as the tall man extends a gloved hand towards him.

He finds himself wishing for Sweden.

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Latvia glances suspiciously at the bowl of who-knows-what in front of him, the tantalizing smell drawing him nearer. But then _Russia_, his saviour, Russia's calm voice resonates in his mind, Russia's wagging finger and chastising expression fills his brain.

_"Never trust anyone that gives you food unless you can down a barrel of vodka without feeling tipsy."_

The voice states sweetly, and Raivis finds himself nodding, agreeing with Russia. After all, Russia is the largest country in the world. Russia is smart. Russia is wise. Russia knows all.

Latvia switches his gaze to Sweden, who was playing with a small dog, who looked too nice right then to poison him.

For the first time, Latvia finds his loyalty to Russia wavering. If Sealand lives with this... creature, he can't be all that bad, can he?

But then Sweden looks over and tries to smile and _it looks like a glare_ and Latvia is _so scared_ and he yelps and he dives under the table, spilling the contents of the bowl.

Sweden sighs, standing up and grabbing a clean rag from the sink.

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Sealand glares at the bowl of Russian crap in front of him, although he could feel himself giving into the scent of it. It smelled so good, it wasn't even possible. But then _Sweden_, his guardian, Sweden's fatherly voice steels his resolve, Sweden's shaking head and wise expression clogs his nose.

"_D'n't t'ke food fr'm strang'rs."_

The voice mumbles sternly, and Peter finds himself puffing out his chest, being strong for Sweden. After all, Sweden is a highly developed and very well-known country. Sweden is smart. Sweden is wise. Sweden knows all.

Sealand directs his glare to Russia, who was calmly placing a bouquet of sunflowers in a vase, who looked too sweet to right then to poison him.

For the first time, Sealand finds his trust in Sweden wavering. If Latvia lives with this... maniac, he can't be all that bad, can he?

But then Russia looks over and smiles and it looks so _malicious_ and Sealand is _so scared_ and he cries out and he dives under the table, spilling the contents of the bowl.

Russia exhales, straightening and pulling off his scarf.

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Latvia peers out from under the sturdy wooden table that was so very _homely_ and looked just like the one Russia had, up at Sweden. Sweden is dutifully wiping off the mess with the rag, a rag that spoke of many spills, a rag that reminded him of Russia's scarf.

Russia's scarf that had wiped his clumsiness away airily, Russia's scarf that had wiped his liquid sadness away comfortingly.

Raivis finds himself crawling out from under the table and asking meekly, his eyes on his feet, if he could help.

Sweden agrees, and Latvia doesn't even flinch when the sound reaches his ears. He's starting to get used to Berwald.

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Sealand peers out from under the sturdy wooden table that was so very _melancholy_ and looked just like the one Sweden built, up at Russia. Russia is calmly wiping away the spill with his scarf, a scarf that spoke of many hardships, a scarf that reminded him of a rag that Sweden always used.

Sweden's rag that had cleaned his jealousy off reassuringly, Sweden's rag that had cleaned his anger off patiently.

Peter finds himself ducking out from under the table and using his own hat to help clean, his eyes anywhere but Russia.

Russia thanks him, and Sealand doesn't even clench his fists when the sound reaches his ears. He's starting to get used to Ivan.

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Sweden makes another bowl of it, and Raivis apologizes over and over, clutching a spoon in his hand. Sweden just waves it off with a kind smile and gestures to the food.

Latvia dips his head to take a bite, blowing softly on the heated meat, and closes his mouth around it tentatively. It tastes _so very good_ and he can't get enough and soon the bowl is empty and he is wiping his mouth with a napkin.

He smiles up at Sweden, a broken smile that is still nervous, but a smile nonetheless. Sweden smiles his awkward grimace back and they seem to grow a mutual understanding right then.

The two slowly interact and soon are talking and playing with Hanatamago and Raivis has never felt this... refreshed.

He almost wishes he could stay longer.

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Russia makes another bowl of it, and Peter apologizes shyly, gripping a fork. Russia just acknowledges it with a wave and a gesture at the food.

Sealand lowers his head to take a bite, fanning the meat lightly with a hand, and his teeth sink into it tentatively. It tastes _so very good_ and he can't get enough and soon the bowl is empty and he is wiping his mouth with a sleeve.

He beams up at Russia, a smile that is misunderstood, but a genuine one nonetheless. Russia smiles his creepy grin back and they seem to sprout a mutual understanding right then.

The two slowly interact and soon they are conversing and trimming sunflowers and Peter has never felt this... cleansed.

He almost wishes he could stay longer.

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Soon Latvia waves goodbye to Sweden and both are smiling that awkward, cracked smile.

Soon Sealand waves goodbye to Russia and both are smiling that strange, sad smile.

Latvia pats Sealand stiffly on the back.

Sealand ruffles Latvia's hair.

They both say that it wasn't that bad, though in actuality, it was amazing.

They both promise to do it again.

And then Raivis runs into the arms of a smiling Ivan.

And then Peter runs into the arms of a smiling Berwald.

They find themselves all sharing smiles.

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**So... Like it? Hate it? Requests? Leave a review, please!**

**Tak and Best Wishes,**

**Wannabe-Danish-Cookie**


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